


The Price of Failure

by EvilFuzzy9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Take This Too Seriously, Don't Try This At Home, F/M, Masochist Bellatrix, Master/Slave, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Snuff, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzy9/pseuds/EvilFuzzy9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Lord demands payment for the recent failure at the Ministry of Magic. Narcissa offers to take the brunt of his anger, if only to spare her son.</p><p>Bellatrix is there, too.</p><p>[vore, snuff, abuse, rough sex, dom/sub]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Failure

"I do not tolerate failure. I do not forgive incompetence. You two know this, do you not?"

A pale figure in black robes towered over a pair of penitently bowing women, one dark and the other fair. Red, slitted eyes gazed coldly down on their nude forms, one a mother and the other gaunt, but both still attractive in their own individual ways.

"There is no excuse, my lord," breathed the raven haired woman, her darkly lidded eyes peering reverently up at him. She was bowing with her body flat on the ground, the outlines of her ribs visible. "The mission should have been a success. Lucius—"

"Do not think you can shift the blame from your own neck, Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort said in his high, cold voice. "Lucius was not alone in my confidence. You, too, have disappointed me. Why did you not do away with Potter's friends at once? Do not tell me that Azkaban has weakened you so much as to leave the Killing Curse beyond your power."

Bellatrix Lestrange pressed her nose harder against the cold, stone floor. Her shoulders heaved. An unhealthily skinny form squirmed under the Dark Lord's glare, a posterior nearly devoid of fat was thrust into the air, and formerly ample breasts shrunken by years of malnourishment were squashed feebly between the floor and her torso.

"Of course not, my lord!" she cried. "The dementors have not left me so broken!"

"Then why, Bellatrix, did you not employ it the moment Potter and his friends refused to hand over the prophecy? I would expect such foolishness from the others, but _you_... I had never thought you would be so soft."

"Potter would have broken the orb on the spot," interjected the fairer haired, more fully figured witch beside Bellatrix. "He is too much like his parents. He held it hostage, and—"

"I was under the impression that you were not _there_ , Narcissa," Voldemort coldly interjected. "You were comfortably ensconced in the warmth of your manor home at the time Lucius and Bellatrix were confronting Potter's little band of friends, were you not? Or do you presume to know the events of that night better than those who were present?"

Narcissa Malfoy balked.

"N-No, never! I only meant..." She looked up, half rising unconsciously from her supplicative pose. Pale blonde hair like a sheet of white gold fell down her back, and a bosom as generous as Bella's had been before Azkaban heaved and trembled. "...I only meant, lord, that Draco has told us what the boy is like. Harry Potter is too stupid and noble to listen to reason. I only meant..."

"You do not think a boy as noble and foolish as Potter would have been rendered distraught at the death of a friend?" Voldemort sneered. "You think him cold enough or clever enough to place the greater good above insignificant lives and childish sentimentality?"

Narcissa went even paler than she already was. The blood drained from her cheeks, and she cast her eyes fearfully left and right, nearly quailing under the Dark Lord's scrutiny.

"I... I..." she stammered, staring panicked into the middle distance. Her body was fit, yet still showing the signs of age and motherhood, stretch marks no magic could fully erase, here and there reserves of lingering fat from years of comfort and leisure.

" _Crucio_."

Voldemort raised his wand almost casually and pointed it at the center of Narcissa's chest. He gazed dispassionately at the woman's naked body as his curse struck between generous mammaries, making their creamy surface ripple and roil with her sudden, violent spasms.

Narcissa collapsed back onto the floor, thrashing and screaming. Her body rolled over and slammed into Bella's side, their asses clapping noisily together as Narcissa shrieked in uncontrollable agony. Her limbs flailed in a seizure of dark magic, eyes rolling in her sockets, mouth gaping open. Her bosom rose and fell, Narcissa pausing in her inhuman wails only to draw breath.

Voldemort did not smile, but Bellatrix thought she saw the hint of a bulge in the groin of his robes. Her eyes glued themselves to the Dark Lord's loins, longing thoughts of what lay beneath distracting her from the sound of something large and smooth sliding across the floor. Not that she would have been able to hear it beneath Cissy's shrieking.

The cruciatus continued for several long minutes. Narcissa screamed bloody murder, her cries no doubt arousing some of Voldemort's crueller servants who resided in other parts of the hideout, awaiting their turns to speak with the Dark Lord. Voldemort kept his wand trained on the buxom blonde's wildly thrashing figure, his mask-like visage perfectly dispassionate. Narcissa could not even form the words to beg for mercy, and tears streamed from red and puffy eyes as pained, senseless sobs wracked her body.

Bellatrix shuddered, listening to her sister's screams. She watched Cissy's body writhe and roll across the floor. Her mouth was dry, but between her legs she felt moist.

Yes.

Bellatrix enjoyed watching as her master tortured her sister. She loved Cissy as dearly as anything, but there was nothing which could not be perverted by the dark arts, no bond so pure that it could not become tainted and twisted by the moral decay inevitable to those who delved the deepest and blackest of magicks. Moisture dripped from Bellatrix's sex. Her heartbeat quickened, and she licked her lips, glancing from her sister to her master.

Gingerly, hesitantly, wary of displeasing the Dark Lord, Bellatrix reached down between her legs, raising her arse into the air and whimpering as her nipples slid through cracks in the stone floor. Whimpering, Bellatrix Lestrange rubbed the entrance of her sex, sliding a fingertip lightly up and down between flushed labia.

At last, Voldemort released the curse, letting his wand fall. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Narcissa slumped onto the floor, breathless and shivering. Her face was ashen, her eyes wide and glassy, and her skin slick with a cold sweat. She stared unseeing at her sister's quivering form, some unconscious part of her mind noticing the rapturous look on Bella's face.

"Your husband has displeased me one time too many, Narcissa," Voldemort said. "And you have done little to relieve my anger. Thrice since my fall has Lucius betrayed my trust! Firstly failing to seek me out and renouncing me before the Wizengamot, secondly acting without my orders and using that which I left in his care to further his own agenda, and thirdly failing to retrieve the prophecy from five—mere— _children_."

Voldemort's voice rose higher in pitch and volume as he spoke, his eyes flashing angrily, and he seemed to grow greater and more menacing with every word to leave his mouth, rising over Bellatrix and Narcissa like the cloud of an explosion. His fury mounted visibly, and his wand trained itself once more upon Narcissa. When he snarled the final word, spitting it out like something incomparably vile, the tip of his wand sparked.

Narcissa seized up and released another pained cry, but no spell hit her. It was a long moment before she realized this, and her face fell in humiliation at this show of weakness and fear. Bellatrix smothered a moan behind her lips, her eyes wild with something like excitement as she leered at Cissy's quivering form and tearstained face, thrusting a finger undisguisedly in and out of her cunt.

Voldemort did not spare Bellatrix a second glance, still glaring contemptuously at Narcissa. His ire at Lucius, and the man's family by extension, seemed to be far more pressing to him than the consideration of whether Bellatrix masturbating to the sight of her sister's punishment was disrespectful when she, too, had displeased him. Perhaps the sight of Bella shamelessly finger-fucking herself sent a twinge of pleasure through some nearly vestigal part of his psyche.

He glanced briefly over Narcissa's trembling body, unconcerned by her miserable, strangled sobs. A mirthless half smile curled his lips as a low and shadowy figure met his glance, lying quietly at Bella and Cissy's feet. A hissing nose rose from the thing behind the two prostrated women, and Narcissa froze in unmistakable dread.

Bellatrix ejaculated a wheezing, rasping, wordless cry of sadomasochistic delight.

"And worst of all, Narcissa," Voldemort continued, resuming as though there had been no pause in his ennumeration of Lucius's sins, "your husband is no longer with us. He was captured by the Ministry and sent to Azkaban, where I cannot reach him. Not at present. _But I do not wish to forestall my wrath._ "

The last sentence was spoken in parseltongue, and Nagini reared up expectantly, a forked tongue flicking out to taste a melange of Cissy's fear and Bella's arousal. Yellow, lidless eyes glinted with motes of red, a cold intellect gleaming from the monstrous snake's sockets. And though neither Bellatrix or Narcissa were parselmouths, both understood from the look on their lord's face the meaning of his final sentence.

Narcissa sobbed more pathetically still. Her generous, doughy posterior quivered, those round and juicy buttocks quite soft from years of sitting around and looking pretty for her important, wealthy, pureblood husband. A bosom most generous sagged only slightly, magical treatments able to keep those corpulent tits reasonably perky for Lucius's enjoyment. Make up was smudged by Cissy's tears, a lovely face looking terribly pitiful.

She knew at once that the Dark Lord would not spare her. Lord Voldemort was many things, but merciful was not one of them. He did not tolerate incompetent servants. Until now her family had enjoyed relative security under the shadow of his reputation, but they had failed him one time too many. She was about to die.

"Just—" Narcissa forced out of her mouth, somehow mustering the sense and will to speak coherently, "—please, lord, _please_ —spare my Draco! I beg of you, I implore you! My son is blameless of mine and Lucius's failure. He is all I have left. He will be all that remains of the Malfoy family when we are gone..."

Voldemort inclined his head. He might have been said to be looking down his nose at Narcissa, had he still possessed any real protuberance there. As it was, his gaze dripped with a haughty condescension, and his lips curled almost imperceptibly.

"That is true," he said in his chilling, dispassionate tone. "Draco will be the last of your line. It would be a pity for a family with blood as pure as yours to die out... he is the last male heir of both Malfoy and Black, two very old and pure wizard families. I would hate to wipe out those lines completely, yes... Perhaps Bellatrix will consent to bear a child with the boy?"

"If it is at your command, master, I will breed with him," said Bellatrix slavishly, her expression unmistakeably lewd. Her face was red, her breathing frantic, and her chest slapped the floor while her ass bucked in the air, moisture slopping obscenely from her hot, gaping cunt. "I will bear as many children as this body can carry, if that is your wish! Were my husband and his brother not so impotent, I would have done so gladly long before now...!"

"Yes," said Voldemort, a hint of something like amusement in his tone. "It will be a loss to have you on the sidelines, but you are not getting any younger. You will have many decades to serve me later in life, but it would be wise to procreate while you still can. That is perhaps the most constructive way for you to repay your failure at the Ministry, Bellatrix. You can still be of use, if only as a broodmare for your pureblood nephew."

Bella moaned loudly, shamefully, her head rolling on her shoulders, and her entire body seized up as though she had just been struck with a Cruciatus Curse. With a shrill cry, she came all over the floor, juices gushing from her pussy, spraying over her fingers, her thighs, and the cold stone beneath her knees.

Then she slumped bonelessly onto the floor, shivering and mewling. Silently she stared at Voldemort, adoration and devotion etched into every inch of her attractive face.

The Dark Lord smiled.

"Be grateful, Narcissa," he said, giving the naked, voluptuous blonde a final, sneering look. "Your family will survive you. That is all you want, isn't it?"

 _No,_ a part of Narcissa wanted to say, _I want more. I want to live. I don't want to die here!_

"It is, lord," she said in a quiet, tremulous voice. Her words caught in her throat, and another sob tore from her. "I can... d-die in peace, kn-knowing that... that..."

A wretched moan escaped her, and she raised her head with a wild, desperate look in her eyes. Her mouth opened and she drew a deep breath as though readying to shout. But whatever she was intending to do or say, it came to nothing in the end.

" _Petrificus Totalus_."

Her body froze. She landed back on the floor, stiff and rigid and unable to move.

Bellatrix moaned beside Narcissa, excitement audible in her voice. Her fingers audibly squelched in her cunt, and Narcissa would have been embarrassed to have so clear a mental image of her sister fingering herself, had all sense not departed her in a singular thrill of horror as a tongue flicked the soles of her feet.

Voldemort did not even need to hiss out the words, _"Dinner, Nagini."_ His serpent knew at once that this useless blonde cow was to be its next meal.

Narcissa could not bring herself to breathe. She lay helpless in the Dark Lord's body bind, unable to even shiver as the great snake Nagini parted its jaws. A mouth bristling with fangs like goblin daggers opened wider still, pressing a cool palate over the blonde's heels, scooping her toes up behind its lower lip.

Venom saturated with dark magic dribbled over the skin of her feet. It was a scalding slaver, burning like acid on her unprotected flesh. Narcissa wanted to scream at the pain. Voldemort sneered at her, sitting in repose and watching with cruel mirth as Nagini worked its way up to her ankles.

"Master! Master!" moaned Bellatrix, delightedly thrusting fingers into her cunt and thinking of the duty she would carry out with her nephew, smiling slavishly at her master. "You are magnificent❤ You are without equal❤ You are the Dark Lord, rightful master of this world!❤"

She contorted her body painfully to show Voldemort her naked sex as she masturbated, watching as the snake slowly ate her sister. The Dark Lord watched this with rare appreciation, parting the front of his robes to bare a reprehensible thing.

His cock was enormous, almost grotesquely so compared to his thin form. It was a vulgar, unholy thing, so enormous that not a witch alive could take it without suffering pain like a point blank Cruciatus. He liked to stuff it down the throats of muggles and mudbloods who caught his fancy, and far more bitches had been killed by choking on his hardness than by receiving his killing curse. Lily Potter died to Avada Kedavra only in the sense that this was Bella's pet name for the Dark Lord's dick.

Narcissa watched Voldemort advance on Bellatrix and felt grateful that she would at least not know the ignominy of suffocating on that hideously compelling phallus. Still, she stared, revolted yet fascinated. It drew her gaze like she was enthralled by the Imperius, the merest glimpse of it enough to enslave weaker minds. It was the most unforgivable cock in existence, obscene yet wondrous, filthy yet glorious.

Narcissa drooled a little dumbly as Nagini's fangs grazed her knees. Inwardly she shook herself, though her body did not move except to stiffly shift as Nagini swallowed her legs. She stared fixedly as Voldemort shoved his Avada Kedavra in Bellatrix's mouth.

Bella's jaw cracked, audibly dislocating with the Dark Lord's girth.

Voldemort looked Narcissa in the eye as he pumped his towering basilisk of a prick back and forth in Bellatrix's throat, making her gag ecstatically. Narcissa felt Nagini bite down gently on her plump, smooth thighs. The fangs very nearly broke her skin, and the venom burned like acid.

Bellatrix went blue in the face, and she rocked shamelessly with Voldemort's thrusts, lewdly pleasuring herself as her throat bulged almost comically from the enormity of his horrible hardness. Her eyes popped grotesquely, rolling madly in their sockets, the mostly emaciated remains of her once-curvaceous body wetly thumping the floor. She watched Narcissa's round, milky white booty vanish into Nagini's maw, pissing herself in excitement like a untrained bitch.

Narcissa silently begged for death to come. She could feel her feet burning like they were on fire, and her legs felt little better. Nagini was eating her alive, swallowing her voluptuous form inch by merciless inch. She was never going to see Draco or Lucius again. But if the Dark Lord kept his word, then at least her son would be kept alive, if only as a stud for breeding.

It would be a happier fate than what befell most family of those who displeased Lord Voldemort.

Narcissa's arse felt like it was melting. Nagini's venom was frightfully potent and most darkly magical, and it began the dissolution of her flesh well before it reached the stomach. It hurt like the Cruciatus, like being raped by Lord Voldemort's unforgivable cock. Narcissa wished it would go faster. The sooner she died, the sooner the pain would end.

Her cunt wept as her rump passed down Nagini's throat. Her bladder was going empty, or at least this was what she told herself. She was not getting _horny_ from this, not at all, not from being eaten alive while watching her mad sister come close to asphyxiating on the Dark Lord's flesh wand. Narcissa was a proud, proper pureblood woman, not some masochistic muggle whore!

Voldemort released a sibilant hiss of pleasure, and Bellatrix's mouth flew off his cock. Her head snapped violently back from the unnatural force of his ejaculation. Her eyes were rolled up to the white, and an oozing, tar like substance dribbled down her chin, black but with an eerie, greenish glow. It hissed and bubbled ominously, steaming in Bellatrix's mouth.

Despite the fact that this substance—the Dark Lord's come—was visibly melting her tongue and lips and cheeks, Bellatrix greedily and obediently swallowed it all. She relished the pain, writhing in euphoria and lewdly moaning words of reverence and devotion for her master.

Voldemort smiled coldly, his erection still hard as rock. Dispassionately he observed the melted skin and tissue around Bella's mouth, her bare flesh scorched and seared away by the mere touch of his toxic ejaculate. With a lazy gesture, he flicked his wand at her face. The wounds mended instantly, but it looked like this hurt her even more intensely than his corrosive spunk, and she cried out in pain as well as pleasure.

Narcissa watched this, feeling weak and faintly sick. She was up to her tits in Nagini's mouth, and the snake did not hesitate to sink its fangs properly into the corpulent, creamy mounds. She was sure it could taste the metallic tang of her purest wizarding blood, and she felt a scorching heat where it had bitten her. Her cunt was burning up. She could no longer feel her feet.

Bellatrix turned so that she could bear witness to her sister's final moments. She watched Nagini engulf Cissy's shoulders, pressing her own tits hard on the floor and raising a skinny rump up to waist height.

The Dark Lord grabbed her by the hips and forcefully shoved his Avada Kedavra up her tailpipe.

Bella scream shrilly, gleefully, and immediately forgot all about her sister as Lord Voldemort began to ream her arse in earnest.

Narcissa could feel Nagini's body squeezing hers, the snake's insides kneading and constricting her soft, sumptuous curves. Her ass was melting, her thighs were mush, her pussy weeping its last. Her stomach crawled and writhed, guts twisting miserably. Her heart pounded horribly, thundering against her ribs as if trying to force its way out her chest in escape. She could feel her jugular throbbing in her neck as blood gushed hither and thither to sustain her body in a pointless exertion, keeping her alive despite the utter inevitability of her death.

Nagini's mouth shut before Narcissa's eyes, and a near total darkness swallowed the woman. The last thing she ever saw was the Dark Lord fucking her sister's arse so furiously that his thrusts bloodied Bella's face on the stone floor. The last thing she ever heard, apart from the pounding of her heart or the gurgling of Nagini's innards, was Bellatrix shrieking pleas for Lord Voldemort to fuck her more savagely still.

Narcissa was bathed in darkness. Venom and acid soaked her once smooth, flawless skin. The stench of blood and death and decay filled her nostrils, and her head soon swam and burned for want of fresh air.

Either her body was going numb, or most of her extremities were already dissolved. She could not feel much of her flesh, her arms or her legs or nethers or belly. Nagini was digesting her so quickly, or else she was losing track of time, unable to properly mark its passage save by the thumping of her own heart as it beat more and more feebly.

Whatever the case, she was dying. She was eaten. She was paying for her husband's folly.

In her final moments of consciousness, Narcissa deliriously wished that her son could have been there with her.

Then, she knew no more.

* * *


End file.
